


The Mad Dog And His Little Trickster

by AristoMuse



Category: Persona 5, 龍が如く | Ryuu ga Gotoku | Yakuza (Video Games)
Genre: Action/Adventure, Akira learning how to wield knives, Apprenticeship, Blood and Gore, Blood and Violence, Child Akira, Comedy, Dark Comedy, Dubious Morality, Explicit Language, Father-Son Relationship, Gang Violence, Gangs, Gangsters, Gen, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Knives, Mad Dog of Shimano, Majima being a teacher, Platonic Relationships, Threats of Rape/Non-Con, Threats of Violence, Violence, Yakuza, Young Adult Majima, teenager Akira
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-14
Updated: 2017-11-30
Packaged: 2019-01-17 01:01:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 20,532
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12354168
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AristoMuse/pseuds/AristoMuse
Summary: How did Kurusu Akira know how to wield a dagger so proficiently? As soon as he got one in his hands at Kamoshida's dungeon, it disappeared in a flurry of slashes as he killed the Shadows with frightening skill and accuracy. Perhaps a certain Mad Dog of Shimano could answer that question, that is, if he didn't already stick a knife between your ribs.(Starts from Yakuza 0 and Pre-P5 to Yakuza 1 and P5)





	1. The Beginning

**Author's Note:**

> I've been into the Yakuza series for two years now (only played 4 and 0 though) and I thought...why not LOL. Both games have a red light district and P5 did feature the mafia (not really yakuza) so there was a chance that they could exist in the same world. I wanted a way to explain Akira's amazing knife skills because he takes it on another level by doing flips and shit with a knife. You know who does that too? Majima. 
> 
> Also I know Yakuza 0 happens in the 1980s and P5 is 2010s but JUST HUMOR ME OKAY ;A;

At the wise old age of eight and a half years old, Kurusu Akira was lost. His parents had taken him with them on a business trip to Osaka, but left him to his own devices. Even at such a young age, they didn't care for him more than necessary. The only reason why they took him with was because they couldn't find a babysitter with such late notice, and so they grudgingly paid for his plane ticket too. Once they arrived and checked in, they promptly left without a word and the child was left alone.

Slightly hurt but not surprised at their negligence, he fidgeted around the lavish hotel suite. The large gold and red accented room came with two queen sized beds, a glassed off bathroom and tub, a separate shower, and a toilet room. There was a dresser with a flat screen TV that he looked over with a curious pout. He was used to the box televisions and this was one of the first flat screens he'd seen. It was really big and cool.

He turned it on and watched for a while, but quickly grew bored as it only came with the news and some channels had restrictions saying he had to give his room number and age. He frowned when it wouldn't let him watch, saying he was too young. He was eight and a half years old! 

Heaving a sigh, he hauled himself off the bouncy bed and its red sheets before heading into the bathroom to do his business. While washing his hands, he stared at his reflection in the flawless gold accented mirror.

He had a mop of messy black hair he inherited from his dad- father, father, he repeated to himself. He was stern about being called father instead of dad. His big gray eyes were surrounded by thick lashes that he inherited from his mother, and she always complained about how girly he looked. He was forced to wear a white button up shirt and black slacks while he was here, so he looked a lot more mature for his age.

His light porcelain skin coupled with his age and effeminate looks made him a target for bullies back home, and sometimes he hated it. He wanted to be manly so people would like him. Most of all, he wanted friends who would stick by him. 

Turning off the sink, he wiped his hands on a hand towel. Could he make friends here? His parents weren't around, and he was all alone. Even though he would be leaving in two days, he wanted to meet people who wouldn't make fun of him for his girly looks. He wanted to meet people who didn't step away because he was Kurusu Akira, the child whose parents didn't love him, but people who would be his friend because he was Akira. 

Goal in mind, he nodded determinedly before running out of the hotel room and the door swung closed behind him, unaware that he needed a keycard to get back in.

Exiting the double doors of the lavish hotel, he looked around in awe at the busy streets. People in all sorts of clothing walked to and from their destinations, laughing and shouting about their day. The streets were packed with food carts, the sellers yelling at nearby potential customers to sample their famous Osaka takoyaki. Stores lined the sides, advertising fashion, food, and entertainment. Neon lights flashed brightly from every billboard that littered the building sides as the sun began to set in the skyline.

All in all, Osaka was an ocean of color and life that he wasn't used to. 

Awed, he stepped out into the streets and his neck began to hurt from how many times he was turning his head. Everything was so interesting compared to his rural hometown, and he wanted to look at everything! 

Walking forward without looking, he bumped into something and recoiled, holding a hand to his head. "Ow..." He pouted before looking up. He walked into a a frilly pink sign saying "Girls here! You can look and touch!"

He tilted his head curiously. Why would anyone want to look or touch girls? Girls were gross and loud, and they always either stared at his eyes jealously or turned away because he looked too much like them.

An adult came down from the stairs of the establishment and made shooing motions at him, sneering with beady eyes and slicked back hair. "C'mon, kid! You can't stand here, it's bad for business!"

Akira cowered and ran away down the streets, pushing past the sea of adults as he was blinded by his emotions. He hated it when adults told him what he couldn't do just because he was a kid. It didn't mean he didn't have feelings and thoughts too! 

After a couple minutes of running, he stopped and rested his hands on his knees, panting from the exercise. He was top of the class when it came to gym and even taught himself how to do cartwheels, but running that long and that hard left him breathless. 

Taking a deep breath, he straightened up and looked around, fear creeping in. Everywhere he looked was unfamiliar, and the professional business attire he saw earlier were traded for tiny dresses and loose suits. Everywhere he looked were only adults, smoking, drinking, and laughing loudly, uncaring for the lone child in the streets.

Loud music blasted through the club entrances, and people threw their cigarette butts onto the ground, immediately lighting another stick. Neon signs glowed in the late evening, the sun having disappeared long ago during his run, and a stone dropped in his stomach as soon as reality set in.

He was lost and no one cared.

He tried to hold in his tears, to be a big man, but one couldn't help but trickle down at the fact that he was all alone in an unfamiliar place. He turned around and tried to go back the way he came from, but he honestly couldn't remember what streets he ran down and what landmarks he could've noticed. He didn't stop though, he had to keep moving.

Wait, why did he keep moving? His parents didn't love him, in fact, they would gladly give him away if it didn't mean their names would be listed as his birth parents and he'd be linked back to them. He didn't have any friends who liked him, not even the other loser kids at school who were in the same boat. He wasn't cool enough for the popular kids, and he was too pretty for the outcasts. He was his own outcast. No one liked him. He had no reason to keep going.

Stopping in the middle of the street, adults passing by him without a glance or even acknowledging his existence, he let the tears fall. His lips quivered as he sniffed, trying to keep quiet like he always did, but a tiny whimper couldn't help but escape from him, washed away by the loud beats from a nearby club.

He was lost, alone, and unwanted. He hated it. He hated it so much...

"Hey, kid. Why're you cryin'?" 

Akira stopped crying, a little snot bubble hanging from his nose, and looked up. And kept looking up.

The person who talked to him was tall, at least six feet with long black hair pulled back into a silky ponytail, and was dressed in a casual black suit. His face was long and his nose was a little crooked, but what really stood out to him was the black eyepatch he had over his left eye. He had a cigarette between his teeth, smoking away as he stared down at him with one black eye. 

When he was stood alone on the street, people walked by without caring, but they walked close to him as if they didn't know he existed. Now though, with this man in front of him, the crowds parted far away as if they were cowering from a predator.

Akira blinked. "Uh...What?"

Exhaling a breath full of carcinogens, the man flicked the cigarette bud away to be trampled upon by other pedestrians, and knelt down closer to his level. Even on his knees, he was taller than Akira by at least half a foot. "I said...why're you cryin'? Actually, why's a kid like you in Sotenbori of all places?"

He furrowed his brow. "Sotenbori..? I'm not in Kawaramachi?" How far did he run? 

The man stared at him for a second before sighing. "You're far from where you're supposed 'ta be. Where's your parents?"

Akira shrugged sullenly, looking away. "I don't know." He muttered. "They went off to a meeting and left me in the hotel." 

He raised a brow. "All right...which hotel?"

"Um..." He tried to wrack his brain for the name, but he didn't care as much about it aside from the flat screen TV it had. "It was a fancy western name, I think. Regusu..?"

Recognition shined in his eyes. "The St. Regis, huh. Your parents must be pretty loaded." He eyed around the busy streets, noting the occasional suit that signaled an unsavory figure. "...How 'bout this, kid. I'll walk ya back, so no more cryin', all right? Real men don't cry just because they're lost."

Wiping the last of his tears, Akira looked up at him curiously. "Then what would make real men cry?" 

He looked away, his eye darkening from past memories. "From losin' someone you care about..." 

He tilted his head. "But I don't have any friends. Who am I supposed to care about?" 

The man gave him an incredulous look before barking out a laugh, scaring away a couple walking by. "Man, what kinda kid is this?" Shaking his head, he stood up to his full height and extended a hand out to him. "The name's Majima. What's yours?"

Staring at it for a moment, Akira hesitantly accepted. He knew he was supposed to be wary of strangers, but this stranger was a lot nicer than anyone who was supposed to care about him. "Kurusu Akira. Nice to meet you, Majima-ojiisan." 

Majima sputtered. ""Ojii-san"?! I ain't that old!"

"But you have an eyepatch." He pointed out innocently. "Only old people have eyepatches, unless you're a pirate, which would be really cool." He hoped he was a pirate. He'd never met one before and pirates were pretty awesome.

Something inside him protested at it, a red gentlemen's suit flashing in his mind, but he shrugged it away. Pirates were still cool.

Majima deadpanned and rolled his eye. "Sure, I'm a pirate. Better than bein' called an old man. Why don'tcha go take a seat over there and I'll get ya somethin' to drink?" He gestured to the small park on the side of the small street. "You look beat."

Now that he mentioned it, Akira was pretty tired. He hadn't drank or eaten anything since the flight and all he had were some crackers and a juice box. "...Can I have something to eat too, Ojii-san?"

He snorted. "Sure. I'll get ya a nice stick of Osaka's best takoyaki. Sit tight for a minute, yeah?" He turned around and headed down the street to a nearby food cart, ordering the famous baked octopus balls.

Obeying the pirate man, Akira walked over to the small park and took a seat on the bench. For some reason, there was a barrel on fire, so he expected to see some homeless people, but the old playground was empty of anyone else except him. There was a decrepit public toilet stall at the corner, graffiti-ed over from years of vandalism, and there was a monkey bar that was rusted over, wild grass growing through the cement cracks. This playground sucked. 

He swung his legs back and forth as he waited for the friendly pirate to come back. Majima was nice. Even though he could tell he was the kind of person his parents hated, he wasn't a bad man. He helped him out, after all. A kid in a city he wasn't familiar with. So what if he was a little scary and people seemed to avoid him on the streets? People didn't like him either, so they had that in common.

Akira sighed, leaning back in his seat. Majima was taking a long time...

A shadow fell over him and he looked up, furrowing his brow at the sight of three men in shoddy suits. Their greasy slicked back hair framed their square faces, sneers occupying their lips. The first three buttons on their shirts were loose, showing gold chains. Their black suit jackets hung around their broad shoulders, also unbuttoned, and a slight breeze moved it enough that he could see something like a hard bulge in their inner pockets. Something that was long and rectangular.

"What's a kid like you doin' in our turf?" The middle one drawled, eyeing him over with dark beady eyes.

Akira blinked and slowly scooted back on the bench. When in doubt, don't answer.

"Oi," The one on the left called out to him. "Aniki's speakin' to ya. Answer him." 

He kept his mouth tightly shut, starting to get nervous with three men crowding around him. When's Majima coming back? Maybe he could do something...

Narrowing his eyes, the one on the right lifted his foot and stomped the spot right next to him, rattling the rickety bench. Akira yelped, curling into a ball by reflex. "Answer him, you little brat!" He spat. 

The one in the middle, the boss, raised a hand and pulled his minion back. "Hey, hey." He said softly. "Don't scare the lil cutie. Look at 'im, he looks like he's about ta cry." 

"Sorry, Aniki..." The offender took a step back.

Turning back to him, the boss smiled and leaned down, towering over the young child. "Wanna come with us? We'll help make ya nice and comfy."

Swallowing nervously, Akira only shook his head. When was Majima coming back? Would he even come back? Maybe he got his hopes up only to leave him behind...

The smile turned dark and he reached out to ruffle his ebony hair. "Damn, that's some nice and fluffy hair ya got there." He slowly licked his lips. "Perfect for grabbin', too." 

His eyes widened and fear began to creep up his spine. What did he mean by that? Was he going to be hit? He had been beaten up before by some bullies, but they were his age and his size. He'd never been beaten by an adult...

The hand slid down from the top of his head to his face, cupping his cheek. "Look at 'em soft cheeks and long lashes." He cooed. "And that tiny mouth...can't wait to put it to work." 

Shuddering at an unwanted stranger's touch, Akira flinched away, moving back on the bench. He didn't want to be touched. What did they want?!

The boss's eyes narrowed and he smirked. "C'mon now, don't run. We'll make sure you'll have lots of fun..."

"Oi."

They turned around to the entrance of the playground and Akira perked up at the sight of the pirate man, a can of green tea in one hand and a few sticks of takoyaki in the other. The bright lights from the club behind him illuminated his tall and slim frame, the front of him unlit. All they could see was one eyeball, glaring dangerously at the three gangsters. 

"What do you think you're doin', huh?" 

The boss of the small gang raised a brow, unaware of the danger. "Fuck off, one eye." He sneered. "This kid's mine. I aint' sharin'." 

Majima narrowed his eye. "'Sharin''? You fucking pedophile..." He spat, disgust bleeding into his voice.

Clenching his fists, one of the gangsters rushed over to him. "Hey, you can't speak to Aniki like that, you bastard-!"

He was cut off by a snake skinned shoe to the chest, propelling him back to slam against the other men. Calmly walking up while the gangsters struggled to stand from their heap, Majima handed the refreshments to the young boy. "Here, Akira. Why dontcha eat while I take some trash out?" He grinned, a hint of violent blood lust in his smile, before turning back to the gangsters.

Dusting themselves off, they reached into their inner coat pockets and unsheathed their knives. Akira watched with wide eyes, the takoyaki sauce beginning to drip onto his hand. They had knives! This was really dangerous! 

"You asshole, this suit was Gucci!" The boss shouted angrily, dust and dirt from the deserted playground coating the back of his suit jacket and pants. "I'm gonna kill you!"

Majima snorted and a glint of metal appeared from his back. Akira's eyes widened even more as he saw him slide a small blade from the back of his waistband, the sharp metal making a zing sound as it was unsheathed. Was the pirate man actually a pirate? 

Shifting his feet apart, he bent his knees and held the dagger in front of him, his other hand left open for grabbing. "C'mon, you pieces of shits." Majima goaded, waving the deadly blade so it would catch the reflection of the barrel fire, wielding the dagger like a weapon from hell. 

The men charged at him, swinging their fists at his face, but the one-eyed Oni expertly dodged, back flipping and twisting away from their hits. Throwing his knife into the air, he flipped onto his hands and kicked it in the direction of one of the gangsters. They let out a pained scream as the blade slid straight into his arm as easily as butter and they staggered back, gripping their wound as the life water flowed out and stained his suit.

Dashing forward, Majima yanked his dagger out and sliced the other two who tried to ambush him, blood flying through the air. He grinned, a glint of madness in his eyes, and laughed maniacally in his natural environment.

Akira watched this with wide eyes, flinching when the blood sprayed into the air, but continued to slowly eat his snack. He munched on a takoyaki ball and never blinked as the fight continued on right in front of him and no one came to stop it. Not a police officer, not a SWAT team, not even any of the club owners. In fact, the entire street was deserted, as if everyone instinctively knew to avoid this part of the city or else they'd find themselves stabbed too.

This was really scary. His pirate man was a really bloodthirsty pirate man who was really happy about stabbing people. He was scared, really scared, but he was also slightly curious and awed. He watched as Majima ducked underneath a fist and used the extended arm to pull the other man toward him before planting a jaw breaking punch, a sickening crack sounding out throughout the playground. 

This was...kind of cool. Could he do flips with a dagger like that?

With a pained groan, the boss landed on the ground, dust flying into the air from the impact. His two other minions laid next to him, bruised, bloody, and unconscious. With a sneer, Majima lifted a foot, the snakeskin glistening in the cheap city lamp, before he brought it down with a stomp. The gangster screamed as his crotch was stepped on and he tried to move the leg off of him. "Pl-Please, stop!" He sobbed as intense pain coursed through his body from his crushed genitals. "I'm sorry! I'm sorry!"

Majima rolled his eye. "You weren't sorry when you were tryin' to lure the kid into your gross pedophile gangbang. Whatcha gotta say 'bout that, huh?!" He put more strength into his leg and the screaming heightened in pitch, now closer to a girlish shriek. Lifting his foot, he snapped his leg forward and kicked the gangster in the head, knocking him unconscious in a pool of his own blood and, Majima noticed with a sneer, urine.

Wiping his blade clean on one of their suits, he sheathed his dagger back into his waistband and dusted himself off. "Phew..." Majima sighed as he took out another cigarette and lighting it. "Pieces of shits think they can win against me? Tch..." Taking a long drag, he walked over to the bench where Akira was, an empty container of tea and takoyaki next to him. "Hey, you OK, Akira? He didn't touch ya, did he?"

Akira stared up at him before he slowly shook his head. "He touched my hair and my face, but that's it..." He answered hesitantly, his eyes darting back to the unconscious bodies that were slowly bleeding out. "Um...A-Are they dead?" 

"Nah." The one-eyed Oni waved him away. "I never kill. They're just...severely injured." He grinned, holding his cigarette with one hand. "Anyway, probably best you forget you saw all that. I probably traumatized your kid brain..." Thinking on it for a moment, he shrugged. "Oh well, you gotta learn about the seedy parts of the city anyway, 'specially if you keep runnin' away from your parents."

Pouting, Akira crossed his arms and tried to glare intimidatingly. "I didn't run from my parents. They left me in the hotel room and they didn't care." He snapped. "I didn't run because there were no parents to run from." 

Majima stilled, gazing down at him with one dark eye, before he closed it with a sigh. "...Guess I can't argue with that. Still, you gotta go back." He said softly, an action that was uncharacteristic of him. "They're still your parents, and deep down, they prolly love you...." He paused. "Prolly." 

Huffing, he looked away with a pout. "I guess...Only if you teach me though."

He furrowed his brow. "Teach you..? Teach ya what?"

Standing up from the bench, Akira squared his small shoulders and stared up at the one-eyed pirate- the yakuza member with a determined frown. "I want to learn how to fight like that." 

Majima narrowed his eye and knelt down closer to his height. "And why's that?" He asked lowly. "You realize what I just did was illegal, right? I just beat up three gangsters, with a **knife**. A kid like you shouldn't even be _thinkin'_ about fightin'." 

He clenched his fists, his blunt nails digging into his small palms. "I know, but...seeing you take out those bad guys like that was amazing. You didn't even stop to think about it, or even think you were going to lose. You _knew_ you were going to win." He lifted his chin. "I want to be like that too. I want to be able to go anywhere without fearing other people like those three guys, or fearing anyone. I want to be able to fight." 

Majima stared at him, scanning his face for any hesitation or doubt but found none. With a huff, he threw his cigarette on the ground, the butt dying immediately from all the dry dust and dirt. He stood up and straightened his suit, not saying anything.

Akira wilted at the silence and turned his head down, staring glumly at his slightly dirty oxfords. Guess even someone as nice (or not nice) as Majima wouldn't agree. He was still just a kid. A stupid kid who no one really cared about. He just wanted to be able to stand up for himself in a world that didn't like him. 

A hand landed on top of his head and he blinked in surprise, looking up at the man it was attached to. Majima patted his head a couple times before giving him a small grin. "I ain't sayin' no, but I ain't sayin' yes either. You're too young to learn this kind of shit right now. Tell ya what, you come back in a few years once you're about..." He held up his other hand to his shoulder. "This height, and we'll talk this over again. That good wit' you?" 

Akira stared at him with wide eyes before he brightened and nodded quickly. "Yeah! Thanks Majima-Ojiisan!" He might not learn now, but he will someday. That was enough for him. 

Chuckling at his eager answer, Majima placed a hand on his shoulder and tugged him toward the street. "In the meantime, I should return ya to your hotel. It's a long walk, kid." 


	2. The Rise

After Majima had escorted him back to his hotel, he had handed him with a business card before leaving, promising to remember him. Akira looked down at the small card, reading "Majima Gorou, The Grand." The Grand? What was that? Was it some sort of casino? It listed an address at least, so that meant he could find it if he had a map.

He was going to head back into his parents' suites, but stopped when he realized he didn't remember which one it was. Pouting sullenly, he decided to sit down on a guest sofa in the lobby and wait. He had no other choice.

A few hotel staff members came up and asked where his parents were, but he only said they were out and he didn't remember which room was theirs. They frowned disapprovingly at his parents' negligence but offered no help other than extending an invitation for snacks and drinks that were left over from Afternoon Tea.

It was around late evening when he was munching on a slice of chocolate cake that his parents finally walked through the lobby, a stony expression on their faces. Their eyes caught his presence and their faces darkened even more with displeasure.

He felt a shiver of fear up his spine but lowered his head obediently, knowing this was one of many battles he won't win. They were probably mad he was out here instead of within the room where no one would know he existed.

His mother grabbed him by his wrist and dragged him after his father, neither of them saying a word, nor did the hotel staff they passed by. Everything was an oppressive silence where even the quiet classical music in the elevator couldn't permeate.

Akira kept his head down as they entered their hotel room, waiting for his mother and father to take their turns in the bathroom before commencing his own washing up. While his family was cold and there was little love between them, they still adhered to their marital status in that his parents slept in one bed and he in the other.

The night felt cold due to the silence, even in the middle of summer, and he tried to huddle into the expensive feather down comforter. Closing his eyes, he envisioned himself in a different place and different time, flipping and twisting between attacks as he wielded a dagger with deadly precision. He would pivot on his heel to avoid hits, while he danced around and defeated his foes.

Smiling excitedly to himself, he knew one day, he would get his wish. He would be stronger, faster, dashingly handsome, and surrounded by friends who he trusted and they in turn would trust him.

One day.

 

* * *

 

In the four years since he'd accidentally wandered into Sotenbori all by his lonesome, Akira had shot up in height and growth, reaching a modest height of 5'5" at the very mature age of thirteen years old.

He had actually formally pleaded with his parents to let him take gymnastic classes once they came back from Osaka, even going into seiza and bowing low to the ground. He knew from experience that just doing cartwheels and back flips were hard, and if he wanted to learn how to fight like Majima, he had to be more flexible. The only way he could think of was to take classes where one was expected to do backflips consecutively.

His parents had been disapproving, but his mother had surprisingly relented. Her reasoning was that if he took classes, he'd be less clumsy and more in control of his body, a must since they had company parties that would require his presence as the Kurusu son. His father had nodded solemnly at her logic and signed him up within the week.

Ever since, he had diligently went to all his classes. It was hard in the beginning, more so because he was a boy and so he was naturally less flexible than the girls (which were majority of the class). It also hurt. A lot.

However, he quickly excelled due to his determination and slender build, and the gymnastics teachers all praised him for his hard work. Now he can backflip almost as easily as breathing air and it was amazing.

He was never able to learn how to wield a knife other than when he was cooking since it would be too suspicious with his parents around, and he lived in a rich neighborhood meaning there was always a patrol officer nearby, but he couldn't wait until he was able to kick a knife in mid air and into his intended target. Not that he wanted to really hurt anyone. It was just really cool.

He wanted to do a lot of things because they were cool.

Recently, he had been keeping track of how many times his parents went to Osaka for their business trips, just to create a schedule of when he could finally request to tag along and see his pirate man again. Well, yakuza man.

He figured it out last year when he watched a TV drama about a detective who went undercover in the yakuza underground. A lot of the characters would speak and dress exactly like Majima, and even though the show wasn't "real," it had to be based off of real life.

Majima had promised him once he reached his shoulder that he could learn, and he finally made it. He had never forgotten the man nor his word.

In a school that didn't like him with a student body that shunned him, he needed that promise to be real. All that mattered was becoming stronger. Becoming someone he could be proud of. Someone who didn't cower away when their parents hit them, when others would criticize them, when others wouldn't care.

He wanted to be more than whatever he was now. He wanted to carve his own path, to be his own person that wouldn't adhere to anyone's unfair rules.

Because life wasn't fair, and he wanted to change that.

In a twist of events, it was actually his father who informed him they were going to Osaka, and he was coming along. Supposedly, it was another company party that was more of a front for business deals, and every employee was required to bring their immediate families with. He was told to pack his suit as the trip was within two days, and then his father left for his office.

Feeling excitement flow through his veins, Akira quickly ran into his room (neat and organized like his parents wanted, but not what he wanted. Never what he wanted.) and opened his closet. Taking out the plastic wrapped suit that was only for formal affairs, he threw it on the bed and took out his small suitcase. Making sure there was room, he threw in a few inconspicuous clothes in as well, like a regular white button up, some dark blue jeans, and a few t-shirts.

He wanted to be able to walk around later, just like before. Last time he was too conspicuous, too bright, too innocent. It was how those...pedophiles? Targeted him. He still wasn't sure what they wanted, but he was glad Majima had been there to protect him. He didn't know what would've happened if he had abandoned him, too.

Zipping up the suitcase, he took a bath and went to bed early, too eager and jittery to really fall asleep. Just a little longer...

Then he would become strong.

* * *

 

Akira tried to hold in another sigh as the party went on.

They were back in the St. Regis hotel ballroom that was situated on the top floor. Large glass windows framed with fancy drapery showed the bright streets of Osaka below, and the "party" was in full swing. By full swing, he meant it was a bunch of stuffy old men talking to each other with their wives gossiping over glasses of expensive wine.

The chandeliers glowed gold above them, with the ceiling painted like a European artwork. A small orchestra was set to the side, elegant classical pieces singing from their instruments. There was a long buffet table of refreshments, mostly consisting of cheeses, thin slices of meat, finger sandwiches, light desserts, everything that anyone could ever imagine in a ballroom was here. There was even a fondue station.

There were some other kids, but as per usual, no one approached him and he didn't approach anyone. Not even the pretty half foreigner who stayed in her own corner, her light blond hair curled into two pigtails to frame her light blue eyes.

Akira would've approached her if her parents hadn't first. He watched as they shuffled her in front of another businessman and introduced themselves as Takamaki.

Bored, he averted his gaze to another section of the party, sipping on his coffee. Even at thirteen, he had grown a fondness for the dark and bitter liquid, just because it seemed so manly and strong. Even some adults couldn't bear to drink it, and it made him feel even more cooler that he could and did.

He stopped however, when a conversation nearby carried over and into his ears. "....you hear The Grand's business is booming? Ever since they got that new manager a few years ago, it's turned from a ghost town into the best club in Osaka!"

"Yeah, I've been there." A salaryman commented as he sipped his whiskey. "The service is great and the girls are even better. I was actually present to witness the manager's impressive display in the midst of a commotion."

"Oh? What happened?"

"A customer had a little too much to drink and was inappropriately touching one of the girls. When a waiter tried to step in, the customer threatened to hurt them, which is when he came out."

Akira perked up, trying to seem nonchalant as he casually sipped at his coffee, eavesdropping on the conversation. Did they mean Majima? His card said he was the manager. It must be the same person!

"Oho, did he put on a show?"

"Oh did he. He got the musical ensemble to start a jazzy tune, and somehow avoided every hit from the customer. It was like he was just dancing around him. By the end of it, he even got the guy to pay for everyone's drinks for the night!"

"Wow, I wish I was there. I could go for some free drinks and hot chicks."

"I drank myself stupid that night and got the worst hangover of the century, so I wouldn't recommend it."

Akira smiled to himself, hearing how his yakuza ojiisan danced around his foes. He was so cool. Could he sneak out later to see him? The party was about to be over and the real party would begin behind closed doors. No one would be watching if he left...

"Akira."

He tensed from hearing the familiar voice and he turned around to bow respectfully at his father. The older man stared down at him coldly before his gaze slid away to where a group of well dressed men were. "You may go for tonight. We will be leaving at the end of the week."

"Yes, father." He replied quietly before walking toward the exit. Finally, he was out of that stifling and inhospitable environment. He hated these parties, but he knew his parents wanted a better position at their company and so they had to attend these. Luckily, after the "party," the actual company workers would relocate to the hotel lounge to drink the rest of the night, meaning he was completely free.

Dashing back to his hotel room, he quickly changed out of his formal suit into some casual clothes, consisting of a black shirt and a pair of blue jeans. He toed a pair of brown sneaker boots, and making sure he had his hotel room key this time, headed out of the hotel and into the bustling and lively streets of Kawaramachi.

Since four years ago, smartphones became all super popular and his parents gifted him one as well when they updated their phones. Just to keep up appearances, of course. Pulling out the map function, Akira put in his location and the address for The Grand, perking up when the app updated with detailed directions, the automated voice telling him where to go.

Following the arrows and making sure he didn't bump into anyone, he somehow made his way into Sotenbori again. He looked around with wide eyes, none of his previous fear from four years ago holding him back.

The streets were loud, wide, and filthy. Every store here was either a 24 hour convenience store or some sort of club, bright lights and LED signs competing with each other to grab his attention. Women in all sorts of tiny dresses sashayed with their male companions, hanging off their arms while pushing their chests in their view. Drunken businessmen and obvious yakuza members littered the club entrances, faces red from over-consumption as they were thrown out by the managers.

Just like last time, no one paid him any attention, and he slowly walked into the den of sin.

He wrinkled his nose at the scent of booze, vomit, and piss, but looking around at the locals' faces, he noticed none of them cared or even noticed, as if it was a natural aroma. Breathing through his mouth, which was somehow better and worse, he followed his phone up to the biggest club in the area. The Grand.

He looked up at the tall building, the flashing yellow bulbs that spelled the name out in English, and the fancy high class lobby that he eyed through the rotating doors. Taking a few cautious steps, he walked inside, his shoes hitting marble floors as soon as he entered the establishment.

Immediately, the noise pollution from outside faded away, replaced by a smooth jazz from further within. There were golden chandeliers and marble columns, a plush red carpet beckoning him in through the burgundy brown hallway. There wasn't anyone here in the entrance and so with a little more guts, he opened the double doors that led deeper into the cabaret, heading down the short staircase.

The first thing he noticed aside from the jazz band playing on the sparkly red stage were the familiar giggles of women and the loud raucous laughter of drunk men. The next thing he noticed was the aroma of expensive cologne and perfume, wafting amidst the scent of high class food. He looked around with wide eyes as women flirted with their customers, and the customers handing them bundles of cold hard cash. So this was an adult playground...

"Welcome to The Grand Cabaret, who would you like to request- Oh."

He turned around, seeing a waiter with a disapproving frown. "Excuse me, but you are far too young to be a customer." He scolded quietly. "I'd like to request you leave the premises immediately."

Akira opened and closed his mouth, trying to find some sort of excuse or reason for being here. He was in an entirely unfamiliar environment and his brain wasn't catching up fast enough. "Uh, I..." He stammered nervously, his voice cracking from the onset of puberty. "I'm not a customer. I'm...I'm looking for someone."

The butler furrowed his brow. "Looking for someone? Is your father here? I'm sorry, but I can't let you go in any further."

He quickly shook his head. His father would never be caught dead in one of these places. "No- I, uh. I'm looking for Majima-Oji- Majima-san." He replied with a stutter, a bead of sweat rolling down the back of his neck from his mop of messy black curls. Please, please, please. Say that he's here.

His brows shot up to his hairline. "Majima-san? What business does a young teenager have with him?"

Akira was about to open his mouth and tell him it was none of his business when the crowds of people cheered loudly out of nowhere. He snapped his head toward the stage and his heart stopped. That familiar tall figure, with a clean cut suit, silky black hair pulled back into a ponytail, and that recognizable eyepatch. It was him.

"-I ask that you all may enjoy your evening, and thank you for your patronage! The Grand is nothing without its wonderful customers..." Majima's familiar voice echoed throughout the lounge, but it was also unfamiliar. He wondered why but then it hit him. He was speaking formally, without any sort accent or slang, as if he was a completely different person.

Then, who was the real Majima? Was it the crass and violent man he met on the streets, or this polite and well spoken gentleman inside the cabaret?

"Sir," The waiter finally lost his patience and placed a hand on his shoulder. "I must ask you to leave the premises."

Scrunching up his face, Akira shrugged him off and waved his hand frantically in the air, trying to catch the eye of his...his...his friend. He had come all this way, he wasn't going to be turned away now!

One dark eye glanced in his direction, the other hidden by an eyepatch, and Majima began walking his way over with an amicable expression on his face. The waiter pursed his lips but gestured for the teenager up the stairs and into the office. Akira held back a frown but followed him inside, blinking when the warm lighting from inside the cabaret was exchanged for the bright white fluorescent tubes.

The office actually looked like an office, with cubicles and filing cabinets lining up the small gray tiled room. To his right was a faded green couch, and further ahead was a fake leafy plant in front of the well used emergency exit stairs.

He slowly took a seat on the couch and fidgeted with his phone, feeling nervous now that he was completely alone. The waiter had left as soon as he opened the door, which meant that the one eyed man should be coming by soon.

His hands tightened around his phone. What if...what if he wasn't wanted? What if Majima had lied about his promise? It had been four years, after all, and they only knew each other for three hours at most. The older man had plenty of things to do, managing this cabaret for example, so it wouldn't be far fetched to think he had completely forgotten about him...

The door swung open again and his head shot up, eyes widening when he noticed it was the one eyed yakuza walking through. Before he could get a word in, Majima groaned and unbuttoned his suit jacket, letting it hang open as he unbuttoned the first couple of buttons on his white shirt as well, taking off the tiny bow tie. "Ugh, I need a fuckin' break..." He grumbled, taking out a pack of cigarettes from one of the desks.

Akira watched quietly, fighting the urge to curl into himself. His eyes trailed after the man as he walked over to the emergency exit and left the door open, a trail of cigarette smoke wafting in a moment later. He didn't even notice him...

After a minute or so, the exit slammed close and Majima walked back in, throwing himself onto the couch next to him. "All right, had my smoke an' everythin'..." He muttered, his right eye straying to him. "So, heard from one of the guys you were lookin' for good ole' me." He drawled, the scent of carcinogens still fresh on his breath. "Who're you?"

The teenager wilted. So he didn't remember. "...No one, I guess." He murmured inaudibly, his curly bangs covering the hurt in his eyes. "If you don't remember, then...there's no reason for me being here." He was about to get up when an arm slung around his shoulders, holding him in place.

"Now, now, don't be so quick 'ta leave..." Majima frowned. "I know for a fact that I dun know any teenagers, 'specially one as girly lookin' as you."

Akira deadpanned at the girly comment. Even now when he was starting puberty, he still had his fair skin and the silky curled mess he called hair. He was starting to lose his baby fat in his cheeks, and he gained some muscle from his gymnastic classes, but he had to grudgingly admit he was still rather pretty. "You don't know me as a teenager." He hinted quietly.

Majima narrowed his one eye at him, scanning his features with a straight frown. "...If you're Sagawa's new messenger, tell 'im to get off his ass and come get his damn money by himself." He warned, a deep growl emanating from his chest. "I ain't got time for fun and games, boy. Either you tell me straight up who you are, or..." A metallic zing sang out in the air and a small blade was held under his small chin. "I get it out of ya."

His eyes widened, fear creeping up his spine. He was being threatened by the one person who he even remotely trusted. He knew yakuza were dangerous, his "pirate" man especially so, but to be on the receiving end on it almost made him piss his pants. "Majima-Ojiisan!"

One dark eye widened. ""Ojiisan"..?" Majima breathed, scooting back in his seat in surprise and placed his blade back within his waistband. "Wait, are you that snot nosed brat?"

He quickly nodded, forgiving him for the snot nosed brat comment. He did snot back then. "Remember?! Four years ago in July?! You-You stopped to ask why I was crying, and you even treated me to Takoyaki! You promised that...once I reached your shoulder, you'd teach me how to fight." Taking a deep breath, he stood up to his full measly height of 5'5". "...I'm there now, Majima-Ojiisan. I want to learn."

The one eyed Oni stared at him for a moment before standing up from the couch as well, still towering over him at 6'1".

Akira blinked in surprise, noticing he actually reached his chin. He thought the older man was taller, but maybe it was because he used to be way shorter as a kid. Straightening his shoulders, the teenager stared up defiantly.

After a couple moments, with his eyes straining to keep up his determined glare, Majima choked and threw his head back, laughing in earnest. "Oh man! You really did come back!" He snickered, shoulders shaking as he tried to keep quiet. "How'd you shoot up like a weed? I remember you bein' up to my waist!"

He pouted. "I wasn't that short..." He distinctively remembered he was up to the man's chest.

Shaking his head in amusement, the manager of The Grand grinned down at him, the earlier threatening undertone disappearing. "It's good to see ya again, kid. You look all healthy and shit, and that muscle too." He poked at his lean bicep that was half hidden by his t-shirt. "You been goin' to the gym?"

"Gymnastics classes." Akira answered somewhat shyly. "I know it sounds girly, but I knew it was the best way to get all flexible and stuff like you..."

His brows raised up in surprise and he let out a low whistle. "That's some dedication...And it's all so you could learn from me, huh?" Pursing his lips, he let out a slow exhale. "...How long you in Osaka for?"

Akira blinked. "U-Um, I'm here until the end of the week."

Majima grasped his chin thoughtfully. "Five days, huh..." He muttered, a calculating glint in his eye. He headed toward the emergency exit again, the door groaning a rusty metal as it was pushed open again.

He stared after him quizzically.

Turning his head to look back at him, Majima gestured for him to follow. "Well? We ain't got a lotta time..."

Perking up, Akira set out after him with an ecstatic smile. "Yeah!"

He was wanted here. Majima had remembered him, and was even keeping his promise. Majima was going to teach him how to be strong. Majima was his friend. Maybe his first real friend.

Nothing would ruin that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know Majima only works at The Grand for one year, but please bear with me as I ruin any sort of chronological order lol I've also extended this fic by one more chapter to fit in everything I want to mention.
> 
> Thanks so much for 27 kudos like holy shit, I didn't think so many people would even be interested in this little idea!


	3. The Fracture

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for 62 kudos and 600 hits! Wow, wasn't expecting a little fun idea I had to be so interesting for so many people! <3

"No, not like that! Straighten yer back some more!"

"Right!"

"No, no, no! You gotta throw it like ya mean it!"

"R-Right, OK!"

"...OK." Majima placed a hand on his face and dragged it down. "What aren'tcha gettin'?"

Skidding to a stop, Akira panted harshly and dropped the pipe in his hands. It clanged noisily on the asphalt, the nearby barrel fire crackling softly. "Uh...Do I really have to do this with the intent to kill?" He asked hesitantly.

This was the third day into their practice. They were in a secluded playground that was situated in one of the lesser traveled streets of Sotenbori. Only bums and passed out men populated the area, most of them huddling one of the barrels on fire. It was dark at night, the nearby streetlamp only illuminating half of the park. It was dusty, dirty, and smelly, which apparently made this the perfect place to practice. 

His parents hadn't questioned him about his whereabouts, nor did they care about how late he came back, only that he was cleaned up and showed himself accordingly at the party. It was an important one where they could be promoted onto the board.

Real Estate was an important business in Japan since land was limited, and their work with other companies meant they had a foothold in the country's most lucrative circles. Their recent deal with Okumura Foods helped expand the growing burger chain and deepened their own pockets.

It was definitely bragged about at the party, though Akira didn't really pay attention since it wasn't his business. It was his parents'.

Majima furrowed his brows. "Whaddya mean? 'Course you gotta go at it like yer gonna kill!" He crossed his arms. "How are ya gonna learn to take this seriously if you ain't gonna put yer all innit?"

"But..." Akira grimaced. "I'm not really going to kill, am I? This is just to be strong."

He stared at him for a few minutes before he sighed. "Listen, Akira. Strength's a double edged blade." He stated grimly. "You get strong, it means you can protect the shit that's important to ya, but...that means people see it. And when they see someone's strong, they go after that." Digging into his pockets, he took out a pack of cigarettes and flicked one out. Lighting the end, he took a slow drag before blowing it out. "You ain't ever gonna be safe. Havin' that intent ta kill means you'll be able to handle it."

He looked down at the ground, idly taking in his scuffed up jeans and sneaker boots. So having the kind of strength he aspired to would attract people who wanted to challenge him. Just like in his video games; if they saw a strong boss enemy, they want to beat it. He would be a target.

His hands curled up into fists. "But...that only means people would see how strong I am. As long as I learn from you," He lifted his head to show determined gray irises. "I'll be cool with it." So what if people would want to hurt him? It only meant they saw him as tough. He could protect people who weren't as strong as him.

Finishing his cigarette, Majima threw it on the ground before placing a hand on his shoulder. "I ain't sayin' yer gonna kill." He soothed. "But I'm sayin', if people see you usin' my style, they might think you were with the family."

Akira blinked. "Family? So you  _are_  Yakuza?"

He looked away, his one eye darkening at his question. "...I was." He muttered. "I'd do anythin' to get back in. Why do ya think I'm workin' this stupid job at The Grand?"

"Because...you're good at it?" The teenager shrugged. "You were really different out there, all prim and proper like my parents. I'm guessing you get a lot of money."

"Not enough." Majima scowled darkly. "I just need a little more...To pay that bastard." 

He furrowed his brow in confusion. "Who?"

The ex-yakuza shook his head. "Not yer business...Now c'mon, kid." Reaching behind him, he unsheathed his signature knife in a flash and held out the handle to him. "Show me what you've learned so far. Don't worry 'bout hittin' me either."

A frown set into his face and Akira slowly accepted the weapon, his eyes following the sharp edge. Grasping it in his right hand, he took his left arm and held it in front of him, elbow slightly bent to protect his front. He spaced his feet apart like he had been taught, making sure he was well balanced to take a hit if need be.

Majima nodded approvingly. "Good, you got the stance down. I'm too tall ta use it now, but it looks good on ya." He complimented before getting into a lowered stance of his own, hands held out like a grappler. "Now...come at me!"

With a push of his foot, the young teenager dashed toward him and slashed halfheartedly, making sure to use the blunt side as well. No matter what he said, he didn't want to hurt anyone, least of all his friend.

The older man frowned at his weak attempt of an attack and quickly knocked the blade out of his hands with a push of his shoulder. "The fuck was that suppose ta be?" He yelled. "Put some effort into it!"

"But..." He quietly protested. "I could mess up and hurt you."

Rolling his eye, Majima snorted. "Don't kid yourself. It's gonna be a million years before you can hurt me." He sneered. "You plannin' on wastin' my time by bein' a pussy? Or are ya gonna show me you're strong enough to come at me with all that ya got?"

Bristling at the insult, Akira bent down and grabbed the discarded blade. He wasn't a coward. He wasn't some unwanted brat. He was going to prove him wrong!

Tightening his grip, he pivoted on his heel and swung up, just missing the suit jacket by a hair's breath. Majima made a noise of surprise and took a step back, grinning excitedly at the aggression. Advancing forward, Akira continued to try to slash, stab, whatever he could do to land a hit on the older man. His eyes caught the sight of the arm swinging his way and with a push of his legs, back flipped a few feet away, landing on the balls of his feet.

"Good, good..!" Majima bared his teeth, slacks wrinkling as he bent his knees. "You're puttin' all that knowledge to good use now! Again!" 

Breathing deeply, Akira continued to show him his determination. His heart pounded in his chest, adrenaline pumping through his veins as he used everything he learned in gymnastics class, his lean body helping him basically dance around the older man.

Pushing off the ground, the blade finally caught onto italian knit and tore into the seams, leaving a sizable tear in the back of the jacket. Akira gasped and back flipped away, putting distance between himself and his mentor. He landed a hit..!

Majima paused at the sound of ripping and turned his head to survey the damage. "Woo..." He whistled appreciatively, testing the now ruined jacket. "Lookit dat. You actually got me..." He grinned, teeth glinting dangerously in the cheap city streetlight. "You've got more skill than I thought! Let's keep at-" His phone rang at that moment and his smile fell. Digging it out of his pocket, he quickly read the text, face darkening the more he read.

Akira relaxed his stance and watched him curiously and a slight hint of trepidation. Was something wrong? 

Tightening his fingers around the mobile, he shoved it back in his pockets and cursed. "Fuckin' Sagawa..." Huffing harshly, he turned back to the teenager. "Sorry, kid, but business calls." He apologized regrettably. "I'll meet ya back here tomorrow, K?"

He nodded slowly and handed him his knife back. "OK...Stay safe, Ojiisan." 

Majima snorted, accepting the blade and sheathing it in his waistline. "Ojiisan again. You're pretty rude."

Akira grinned deviously, a hint of his more rebellious side coming out. "But you like it, or you wouldn't let me keep calling you that." 

Rolling his eye, the ex-yakuza playfully shoved him away. "Ah, fine, whatever." He grumbled. "Same time, same place, all right? I'll walk ya back to the end of Sotenbori." Placing a hand on his shoulder, he guided the young teenager with him.

Unbeknownst to them both, two pairs of eyes followed their every movement, just as they always had since the one-eyed Oni was placed here.

* * *

 

Getting back to the St. Regis Hotel just past midnight, Akira returned back to his own room. Now that he was older, his parents had deigned to give him his own room when they took him with on their business trips. Even though they weren't in love, they still slept in the same bed as per marriage traditions. 

Washing off the grime from the day's workout, he dried off his hair with a towel and sighed, feeling lighter than he ever had. It had been a long time since he was so...so happy. He still remembered his parents trying to be attentive and loving when he was much younger, even taking him to the park and such.

He knew now that that wasn't really them. His father was a cold businessman and his mother was the same, but that didn't mean they were bad people. They just...weren't equipped to love him. 

He didn't know if that was better or worse, that he didn't-  _couldn't_  hate them for their strict and cold parenting. That there was no love between them. He could only be sad that he would never know their affections again.

"-Watch what you say next time. You almost cost us that deal."

Akira lifted his head toward the door when he heard his mother's voice. Walking closer, he pressed his ear to listen in. Did they just come back from one of those late parties?

"I assure you, your fumble with social etiquette was what really harmed our relationship with Okumura. It is not as though we have the reach to acquire the properties abroad."

His mother sighed sharply. "We would so long as we keep this up. No matter how many times I have to put up with Akira on these trips, at least it would be worth it if we were promoted onto the board."

"Your contempt for our son is beginning to show in public. Restrain your irrational ire."

"Irrational?" She scoffed. "He's a disappointment. Quiet obedience is only fitting for the weak, and neither one of us is that. How did he turn out like this?"

Clenching his hands, Akira looked down and tried not to let it bother him, even though each word speared him in his heart. He didn't hate them, but it didn't mean he liked them either. 

"He is still young." His father refuted calmly. "There are certain liberties we must take with him, especially because his presence is required on our trips."

"Is that why you've been so lenient with him? Don't think I haven't seen you letting him go early. The Takamaki girl and even the Okumura heir stayed longer than he did."

"Those two have a larger responsibility to their companies than our son does. Our marriage may be a farce for our business, but he is still our flesh and blood. Do not forget that."

"As if I can..."

Their voices faded away as they returned to their own room and Akira slid down against the door to sit on the floor. His mother had always been the harsher of the two. She hated his quiet obedience, huh? Well, once he would learn enough from Majima, she would finally see that his quiet obedience was a mask. That it wasn't really him. He only seemed that way because it was what they wanted from him.

They wanted a good son who listened and stayed quiet so the adults could work, but he wanted to run and be free and do whatever he wanted without a care in the world. To have some friends who understood that about him, and to change the world somehow. 

He clenched his hands.

He'll achieve that soon.

* * *

Running over to the abandoned park for the fourth time, Akira slowed to a stop and regained his breath. Looking around the decrepit playground, he noticed that Majima wasn't here yet. He checked his phone, noting that he was a few minutes early. He had probably just left The Grand. 

Sitting down on the nearby bench, he decided to wait for him. His eyes wandered around in boredom, but a niggling feeling in the back of his head prevented him from completely relaxing. Even during the last couple of days, there had been at least one hobo or even a passerby walking around, but there wasn't anyone. Not a soul was within the vicinity and dread began to build within him. 

Where was everyone..?

Getting to his feet again, he eyed the surroundings warily, hoping to see another soul. He remembered that yakuza drama where the main character was lured into an abandoned alleyway and was ambushed. It was almost exactly like that.

Slowly taking a step, he was about to break out into a run when a hand roughly grabbed him from behind and clamped down on his neck. Akira gasped and tried to pull it off, but they were too strong. "H-Hey!" 

He was pulled back against a larger person and something cold and metal was placed next to his temple, causing him to still. Blood pounded in his ears and he could feel his knees struggling not to shake.

That was a gun. That was  _a_   _real gun_.

"Stop your strugglin', boy." The unfamiliar gravelly voice spoke out behind him. "Now...who are you? Why has a little kid like you been hangin' out with our one-eyed wonder, hm?"

Grinding his teeth, Akira refused to open his mouth. He wasn't going to say anything, even as he broke out in a cold sweat as the man pushed the barrel harder against his head.

"Answer him, kid." Another voice spoke out, a scruffy man walking out from the shadows of an alley. "Or he'll blow yer brain's out all over this pavement. Who. Are. You?"

He swallowed, adam's apple bobbing almost painfully. "...I-I'm no one." He forced himself to say. "I just thought he was cool."

The man who held him hostage snorted. "Majima, cool? Bullshit. We've been watchin' you, y'know. We all know he's ex-Tojo but for some reason he's out here in Osaka. To see some shit fer brain's learnin' his signature knife style ain't gonna fly." He shoved the barrel against his temple and ignored the cry of pain. "Now fuckin' talk!"

"Or you fuckin' lay off him."

Snakeskin shoes walked leisurely in their direction, disturbing the layer of dust that covered the ground. Taking a slow drag of his cigarette, he let the smoke slowly escape from his mouth. He had already swapped out his gentleman's tux for his casual look, a new italian knit jacket on his shoulders. His black eyepatch which shined with a snakeskin pattern in the cheap street lighting, barely upset the impeccable ponytail.

Majima had arrived.

Akira let out a sigh of relief, knowing he was as good as safe now that his friend was here. The cold metal on the side of his head reminded him that he was still in a precarious situation and so he stayed silent, but his muscles tensed in preparation. 

"Majima..." The second man drawled, stepping between the one-eyed Oni and their hostage. "Just the guy we wanted to see. You got that money to Sagawa-taichou yet?"

The manager of The Grand scowled at the mention of that name. "Mind yer own business. I know you. You're one of the guys who tail me 24/7, huh." He narrowed his eye. "What're you doin' to the kid?"

He hmphed. "Why don't you tell us of your association with him first? Why's the meal ticket been hangin' around a snot nosed kid and teachin' him your knife style?" He sneered. "You tryin' to recruit 'im to your new family? Not gonna go back to Shimano with yer tail between yer legs?"

 His face darkened. "Shut yer goddamn mouth! I'm only doin' this stupid job until I can pay my way back to Oyaji. Now..." Metal sang as he unsheathed his knife from his waist. "Let go of the kid."

The gun left the teenager's temple and pointed toward the ex-yakuza, leaving only the arm around his shoulders. "I ain't afraid of you. I work for Sagawa-taichou so you can't hurt me." The man grinned. "You're just a lapdog to be used."

Narrowing his eye, Majima rushed up within an instant and used the tip of the knife to stab straight through his fingers, the blade sliding into his flesh like butter. The man screamed in pain and took a few steps back, allowing Akira to escape.

Looking around wildly, gray irises locked on onto the metal pipe he had used yesterday and he snatched it from the floor, holding it in his hand as if it was a knife. A presence appeared behind him and Akira realized he and Majima were now back to back, each of them staring down at their opponents. The first man held his injured hand, the wound bleeding profusely onto the dusty ground.

"Remember what I taught ya?" Majima murmured quietly, making sure they wouldn't be overheard. "You gotta make that decision. You gonna fight forreal now that yer life's on the line?"

The metal pipe creaked, his knuckles white from how hard he was gripping it. He took slow and deep breathes to calm himself down. 'Go with the intent to kill, or else I die.' He chanted to himself. There was no choice of whether or not he was going to fight. He just had a gun pressed against his head, and it reminded him that he was walking a thin line here. There was no one but Majima to protect him, but a gun wasn't something they could half ass. He had to fight.

"...Yeah." 

A grin slowly spread upon his face and Majima laughed loudly, spooking the two scruffy men. "Now you're really my apprentice! You better show me what you've been learnin'!" With that, he rushed onto the first man and knocked him back, stealing the gun from his weak grip and ejecting the cartridge out. Whipping the now useless metal contraption into the barrel fire, he easily tore into the enemy.

His own opponent scowled at the sudden turn of events and flicked his pocket knife. "You lil shit..." Tensing his arms, he ran up to the teenager and attempted to stab him. Sucking in a breath, Akira twisted out of the way and pivoted his heel to smash his bludgeon into the man's back, causing him to stumble forward in pain. "Argh! That actually hurt..!" 

Narrowing his gaze, Akira attacked the hand that held the knife, knocking it into the air. He jumped up and caught it by the handle, twirling it in his hand so the blade would face forward. Landing with a puff of dust, he left lacerations all over the open skin. 

Clenching his bleeding arms, the man gritted his teeth. "You motherfucker...!" Blood ran over his fingers in rivulets, feeding the packed dirt with human nutrients. "You gonna kill me?!" 

"No..." Akira breathed out, pocketing the knife and lifting the metal pipe again.

No matter what, he was never going to kill.

Taking a quick step, he swung the weapon onto the man's neck and he fell over himself, unconscious. A bruise was rapidly forming on the red skin, showing that he had put a lot of force into the hit. Breathing heavily, he couldn't find it in himself to feel regret. It was him and Majima or them.

Majima!

Swerving his head, he caught the sight of the blade sinking into the shoulder of the last man, Majima cackling madly as he pulled it out right after. Arterial spray showered in the air and the man dropped like a puppet whose strings were cut, a pool of blood slowly trickling from his wound. 

Rolling his neck, the one-eyed Oni cleaned his blade on the man's clothes before sheathing it into his waistband. "Trash like usual..." He tch'ed. Turning around, he saw Akira completely unharmed in the middle of the deserted playground, his own adversary unconscious, and he brightened. "Nice! You got 'im all by yourself!"

Akira slowly nodded, feeling his shoulders begin to relax. He did it...He did it. He did it! A grin slowly spread on his still childish face and he beamed at his friend. He was strong enough to face off against a man and win! He was able to fight- and-  _win_! Things really were looking up! 

Slow clapping broke their victory and they turned to look at who else was interrupting. A man in a chestnut plaid suit slowly walked over to them, slowly clapping his hands. He was much older than Majima, his face lined with age and experience, and his hair was a peppered gray cut close to his scalp. He would've looked like a kind man if not for the cold look in his eyes. A small genial smile was pasted on his lips as he stopped underneath the warm street light.

"Majima...why are you beating up my men?"

Akira gasped. So then...was this Sagawa? The man that Majima owed money to to help him get back into his family?

"...Sagawa." Majima greeted warily, his posture as tense as rock. "What're you doin' here?"

Taking a pack of cigarettes out, he placed one between his lips but didn't light it. He stared at the one-eyed Oni expectantly.

A vein pulsed in his temple and Majima clenched his fists before forcing himself to move. Akira watched apprehensively as he walked up to the older man, took a lighter from his back pocket, and lit the ends of the cigarette for him. That was a sign of submission from a subordinate to their boss.

Taking a long drag, Sagawa held the cigarette as he breathed it out, blowing the smoke directly into the ex-yakuza's face. Majima grimaced but held his tongue, though the look of rage that passed on his face was rather telling of his mood.

"I'm here because my boys have reported you leaving The Grand earlier than usual." He finally answered, voice low and scratchy. "And here you are, teachin' some kid how to fight. What's up with that?"

His lips twisted. "...He wanted ta be stronger, so I thought why not." Majima answered begrudgingly, taking a few steps so he would shield the teenager from the man's gaze. "I have your money ready, so leave the kid alone. He'll be leavin' soon anyway." 

Sagawa raised a brow. "So he's just some snot nosed brat, huh?" He tilted his head to observe Akira. "Hey, kid. Word of advice: Don't associate with Majima- _chan_  here." He smiled kindly, the action sending a cold shiver down the teenager's spine. "He's too busy to have friends right now. Go back to whatever backwater town you're from and forget about all this, otherwise..." A click of metal sounded out as he took out a 9mm, the black metal glinting dangerously under the street lamp. "You'll find yourself missing your life."

Akira took a step back in fear, wide eyes trained on the gun. This man...was dangerous. More dangerous than Majima. His Ojiisan at least had a kind heart underneath his crazy bloodlust, but this was man who would kill someone without remorse nor hesitation.

This was Majima's boss.

Furrowing his brow, Majima stepped between them. "Hey, he got the message. You can put that away or else the cops'll be on the scene in a flash." He warned tensely. "He ain't anyone special anyway. I don't even know his name. I just took pity on him 'cause he was so weak."

Gray eyes gazed at him with betrayal. What..?

"You really gonna waste a bullet on him? It ain't worth the effort. I'll go back to The Grand and grab yer money, so let's just leave him."

Sagawa raised a brow. "Wow...pretty heartless of you, Majima-chan. You spent how many days with the kid and now you're just gonna drop him like a hot potato." He smiled with amusement, finishing his cigarette and flicking it to the side. "If you've got my money, then I'll be heading to the cabaret first to let you say your goodbyes. So long, kid!" He waved amicably before walking away, not even caring that his two underlings were still unconscious on the ground.

A dead silence pervaded the area and Akira swallowed. He had to have been lying. He was lying, right? Just to get that guy off their backs? Majima had yet to turn around, and all he could see was how tense his back was through the italian knit suit jacket. 

He bit his lip, taking a hesitant step forward. "Ojiisan..?"

"...Get outta here."

His eyes widened. "What..? But...But he was just bluffing, right?" He asked timorously. "We're still friends-"

"I said, get outta here!" Majima turned around and all but roared at him, his one eyes burning with humiliation and anger. Whether it was at himself or directed at him, Akira couldn't tell, but just the fact that his Ojiisan,  _his friend_ , had basically severed any connection with him...something broke within him.

One tear trailing down his face, he turned around and ran. He ran and ran and ran.

Watching the teenager scamper away, Majima heaved a heavy sigh. "Sorry, Akira..." He whispered to himself. "But I can't let Sagawa trap you in this city too...You'll get strong without me, no doubts about that. You just gotta break those chains."

Little did he know, he was about to free himself from the man's grasp like a mad dog, leaving a trail of broken bodies in his path and helping heal an innocent young woman who never asked for any of this. 

He hid is sanity behind a mask of insanity, to be the Mad Dog of Shimano.

* * *

 

Running back to the hotel without stopping, Akira slammed the door shut to his hotel room and broke down. He cried and cried, no sound leaving him except for his uneven breathing and the occasional hitch.

The one friend he had, the one who he thought the world of, the one who was the strongest person in his life, the one who had treated him so kindly, had tossed him away like yesterday's garbage. It was true then. No one wanted him. Not even a one-eyed ex-yakuza who was a crazed fighter. 

He was the fool.

There was a knock on his door and he quickly wiped his face of any moisture, though his eyes were still red from crying. Who could that be? It wasn't Majima; he had no idea which room was his, so it had to be either the hotel staff...or his parents. 

Walking over to the door, he cracked it open and stared up at his father. Those usual cold gray eyes widened slightly at the sight of his son disheveled. "Akira, why are you crying?" 

Sniffling, he looked away. "No reason, father." He answered quietly. "Is there something you need to tell me?"

For the first time since he could remember, his father hesitated, a flash of concern appearing in his eyes, before his mouth set into a straight line. "...Your mother and I did not achieve our goal, and so we will be leaving in the morning. Remember to pack and be ready by 6AM."

Akira bowed his head. So there was no chance of Majima reaching out to him in such a short frame of time. "...Yes, father." He choked out, voice cracking as he tried his best to hold his emotions in. "Good night."

"...Good night." 

He closed the door and let his eyes fall shut. He would forever be the quiet obedient son then. The chains rattled in his ears as he kept his mask on.

He wasn't strong.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So between the end of this chapter and before the next chapter, Yakuza 0 happens and Majima moves back to Kamurocho AKA Shinjuku/Kabukicho. I won't be writing any of that out unfortunately, but hey, Sagawa made an appearance and did what he did best which was ruin Majima's life! :D 
> 
> Next chapter will be the last!


	4. The Rebellion

He kept his head down as he left cram school at 11PM, his classmates purposely bumping and jostling his shoulder as they walked past him down the streets in loud groups. "Ugh, Kurusu's so weird..."

"Shh, you know his parents have money. Just ignore him and focus on your studies."

While they went down the main streets to the restaurants that populated their small but rich town, he instead headed straight through to the residential districts.

He rested his hands in his gray jeans, the chilly winter winds penetrating his thin 1797 baseball shirt, and he adjusted his brown leather bag on his shoulder as he turned a corner at a large house, walking down the deserted and quiet streets. The occasional streetlight highlighted his path, and his foot steps on the pavement were the only thing he could hear.

It had been three years since he had had a friendly conversation with anyone, and even that ended in a disaster.

He was sixteen now.

Coming back to his hometown felt like walking into a prison, a stale dark corner of Japan that was far away from the brightly lit and noisy streets of Sotenbori, Osaka. He had completely cut contact with Majima, and the older man had not sought him out. Whether it was because the older man didn't know how to, or didn't bother to, it all resulted in him being isolated once more.

Entering high school was even worse, especially in a small town such as this. Everyone knew each other, and they all knew to stay away from Kurusu Akira.

He sighed, stopping for a moment under a street lamp, the cheap government funded lights shadowing his features and hiding his deeply sorrowful frown. Even though he hadn't had a friend like Majima in so long, he kept up his old gymnastic lessons in secret, in some vain hope that he would be able to use them again with the ex-yakuza man.

Akira knew he was an idealistic little shit as a kid, thinking he would become some kind of hero who used a knife and backflipped from his enemies, but deep down, that dream was still there, just buried under years of solitude and resentment. Who did he resent? His parents? Majima? Himself? He didn't know anymore.

He just wanted something to change. He wanted his life to change.

"Ahhh!"

His head shot up and looked out further down the street. A woman had screamed and from the sound of it, they were close by. He turned around, trying to spot a patrol officer, or anyone really. Why was it so empty? None of the houses on the street had their lights on either.

"Someone, please help!"

He turned back to the direction of the plea, conflict arising within him. Should he do something? There was no one else around, but who was he? He was just some guy no one liked. It wasn't like he ever finished his lessons with Majima either. All he had was himself.

"Let go of me..! That hurts! Someone, help, please!"

"Shut up!"

His blood froze at the rough voice of a man. Was this...sexual assault? This woman sounded completely defenseless. If he didn't do something, she would...

Clenching his fists, he made up his mind and ran toward the direction of the argument. Turning out of the block of houses, he ran toward the apartment complexes.

Right in the middle of the deserted street was an expensive black car, gas still running, and two people out on the sidewalk. The woman in business attire tried to take her wrist back, but the grip on it was unrelenting. The bald man in what was clearly a designer suit tightened his hand and she cried out, desperately looking around for a way out. "Someone, please help!"

"Shut up!" The man shouted at her, though his words sounded slurred. "You're coming with me!"

"No!" She objected fearfully. "Stop it!" She winced as his grip turned bruising and she tried to tear herself away, her heels skidding on the tiled sidewalk.

Akira stared at the scene with wide eyes, blood rushing in his ears. He couldn't believe something like this was really happening in front of him. This was so wrong. Where was law enforcement? Why wasn't there anyone else but him? Was this...fate? Something was giving him a chance, the chance to help someone who was in trouble.

_"You get strong, it means you can protect the shit that's important to ya, but...that means people see it. And when they see someone's strong, they go after that. You ain't ever gonna be safe."_

He would risk everything if he interfered. The mundane day to day life of him going to school, going to cram school, and then home to two cold parents. Then again...none of that was important to him. None of that ever mattered to him, not anymore. What mattered more was that this woman was in trouble, asking for help, and he had the power to give it.

If they wanted a hero...then he would be one.

Squaring his shoulders, he walked up behind them and grabbed the man by his shoulder. "Get away from her!" His foot hooked his ankle as he pulled, and the man fell back with a shout, hitting the pavement with a thud. The woman gasped and Akira placed himself between her and her assaulter, feet spaced apart and elbows slightly bent, hands open to grapple.

"Ugh..." The bald man slowly got to his feet, blood oozing from the small cut he received when his forehead met the concrete. Though it was dark and Akira couldn't see his features very well, he could still spot the ever reddening hue of his cheeks and he scowled. A drunkard too.

"Damn brat..." He slurred his words, swaying a bit in place. "I'll sue!"

Giving the teenager a grateful look, the woman stepped forward. “If you keep this up…” She began hesitantly, keeping some distance between herself and her attacker. “Then I’ll report about the money! Is that fine with you?!”

He scoffed, blinking his eyes blurrily. “All I have to say is that you did it on your own, and it’s over.”

She took a step back. “But…” She teared up, all confidence gone. “I just did as I was told…”

Akira glanced over at her with a frown. What was going on? Wasn't she being assaulted by him? Was he her boss or something?

The almost rapist chuckled, his forehead still bleeding profusely. “Who do you think I am?”

“No…” She whimpered with defeat, taking a step back in horror.

“Hey.” He roughly called out to her. “Make this statement to the cops. ‘This kid suddenly attacked me.’ Got it?”

Akira turned to him in shock. What? This guy was clearly out of his mind. He had just assaulted this woman, and he was drunk while doing so. There was no way he could get out of this unless he had power.

“If you even try to say anything else, you know what’ll happen to you, right?” The bald man hinted threateningly and she looked away, clenching her eyes. “But…”

Scrunching his brow, Akira stepped forward. “This is bullshit.” He stated quietly. “You were clearly threatening her.”

He sneered, holding a hand to the cut on his forehead. “Shut up. You’re done for." He slurred. "You’re gonna learn what happens when you cross me…”

“Excuse me, folks.”

A pair of policemen walked up to them and Akira sighed in relief. Good, law enforcement. Now they can take this man away and the woman would be safe.

“We received a complaint about an argument here. Is something the matter?” The police officer asked before the almost rapist turned to him. “Oh! It’s you, sir.” His tone turned submissive as he inclined his head at his superior.

Akira’s eyes widened. What?

The bald man turned to glare at the woman. “So, what happened? Explain it to the good officer.” He drawled.

She trembled, clearly fighting with her own morals before bowing her head. “This young man suddenly attacked him…” She closed her eyes and bit her lip guiltily. “He shoved this gentleman to the ground and this man...got injured...”

Akira could only stare in shock and horror. What..? Wasn't he supposed to have saved her..? Couldn't they see this was all wrong?

The man crossed his arms. “...It’s as she says. Also...make sure you deal with this so my name isn’t mentioned at all." He narrowed his eyes at them. "You understand what that means, correct?”

The police officer nodded quickly. “Y-Yes, sir!” Taking out a pair of handcuffs, the two officers approached the teenager.

He took a step back but it was no use as they locked the cuffs on his wrists and forcefully dragged him to their patrol car. Why was this happening? He was only trying to do the right thing. He was so shocked that he couldn’t even find the will to fight back.

His eyes caught the woman’s and she teared up. “I’m sorry.” She mouthed, even as the cops threw him into the back of their vehicle, slamming the door closed on him.

He could only sit there and watch as the man reached out and dragged the woman away, disappearing down the dark street. He couldn’t save her, and now he was going to jail…

 

* * *

 

Darkness.

Isolation.

Disappointment.

Expulsion.

Banishment.

Putting on his new pair of glasses, he set off on the train to Tokyo, unwanted by everyone.

He hid beneath the mask.

 

* * *

 

 

Standing under the awning of Jeannesse et Beaute, he stared up at the gray sky listlessly. His first day of school in Tokyo and it rained.

Footsteps splashed up besides him and a girl took shelter from the downpour as well. He turned his head to look at her as she pulled her white hoodie down, freeing bundles of natural blonde hair. Opening her baby blue irises, she looked out at the sky and the now empty street, frowning slightly.

Akira stared in surprise. She was the girl from the party three years ago. His eyes scanned her clothes, recognizing that her uniform looked exactly like his. And went to his new school it seemed.

Noticing him staring at her, she gave him a small smile before a car honk interrupted them and she left with the square jawed man.

She briefly entered his life and left again, just like that.

Huh.

 

* * *

 

 

"Take this!" Kamoshida grinned viciously as he began to beat the blond teenager, held captive by his guards in his dungeon. Sakamoto clenched his teeth as he withstood the abuse, but couldn't help but cry out in pain as he was punched over and over in the face, in his chest, in his stomach. "Lowly scum!"

Akira could only watched with wide eyes through his glasses, held back with a sword to his throat. How could this be happening? How did they get transported to some weird European medieval castle, whose ruler was apparently their gym teacher? A gym teacher dressed in a crown, a white fur trimmed red cape, and green speedos, viciously hitting a student.

"Useless pest!" Kamoshida shouted as he punched the blond yet again, sending him careening onto the cold stone floor. Sneering, the Palace ruler spit on him. "Where'd your energy from earlier go? A peasant like you isn't worth beating." A guard picked up the teenager before throwing him deeper into the cell, and Sakamoto rolled over with a wince, bruises and red marks covering his face.

"I'll have you killed right now." The gym teacher nonchalantly stated, taking a step forward toward the defeated boy.

Eyes widening, Akira bent his knees and glared at his back. "Stop it!"

Scrunching up his face, he turned to him with a glare. "What..? Don't you dare tell me you don't know who I am." He walked up to the transfer student, his guard moving away, and smirked at the defiance in his expression. "That look in your eyes irritates me!" Lifting his leg, he launched a kick at him but Akira quickly took hold of his foot and yanked hard, slamming the king against the wall behind him.

"Urgh..!" Kamoshida grunted in pain as his nose broke from the impact and he turned around, holding a hand to his bleeding nostrils. "How dare you!" He shouted nasally. "Get him!"

Two of the guards rushed at the transfer student, swords and spears raised to impale him, but he twisted his body forward and their weapons clipped the other. Using one of the guards' shields as a platform, he jumped up and kicked the other, sending them careening onto the floor in a pile of dented metal. Landing on the remaining guard with his hands on their shoulders, he propelled his legs in an arc and using his momentum, jerked them backwards and off their feet.

As the suit of armor fell back in a tumble, Akira pushed himself off and backflipped away, smirking at his accomplishment. He still had it then.

Something hard smacked against his back and he cried out in pain, his shoulder hitting the wall. The third soldier in the cell, held him at sword point and he inwardly cursed. He forgot about the last one.

Sakamoto had been watching him from the cold ground through a black eye, face twisting into a hopeless grimace. "No...run..." He grunted as he was kicked in the chest and he curled up defensively. Kicking him once more, Kamoshida panted and wiped at his face, black blood smearing all over from his broken nose. "You two are pathetic, thinking you can run away from me!" He growled, yellow eyes glowing murderously. "I'll kill you first, then I'll deal with that rebellious brat!"

Tensing at the threat, Akira tried to run to his fellow prisoner but two armored hands pushed him back against the wall before entrapping him with their swords and he cursed, desperation taking over his mind. What could he do, what could he do?!

_"This is truly an unjust game...Your chances of winning are almost none."_

Who said that? A little girl? He tilted his head up, a blue butterfly fluttering across his vision.

_"But if my voice is reaching you, there may yet be a possibility open to you..."_

He slowly breathed out, trying to reassess the situation. His fellow student was being beaten, there were guards all around with weapons, too many for him to take out without a weapon, and the "king" wanted their deaths. Death...

_"'Course you gotta go at it like yer gonna kill!" Majima crossed his arms. "How are ya gonna learn to take this seriously if you ain't gonna put yer all innit?"_

So he had to go through this like he was going to kill. But how? He had no knife, he had nothing...He only wanted to do what was right, regardless of the consequences. He wanted to rebel against this injustice done to them, to him. If only he had power...

_"What's the matter..? Are you simply going to watch?"_

He tensed. Another voice? A deep male one at that.

_"Are you forsaking him to save yourself? Death awaits him if you do nothing. Was your previous decision a mistake then?"_

Saving that woman, that man sending him to jail, even Majima showing him how to kill...He gritted his teeth. No. He wouldn't ever regret taking those chances. "It wasn't..."

The blond struggled as the armored hand around his neck tightened and held him up in the air, the other hand gripping a sword. He began to quake in fear as the soldier raised his arm high, the blade gleaming from the torchlights, Kamoshida grinning evilly to the side.

Akira jerked his body to try to get out of the guards' grips, fighting all the more harder to get to the other teenager. Maybe he didn't save that woman, maybe she regretted him ever stepping in, but for once in his life, he was going to protect someone. He had to save him..!

_"Very well...I have heeded your resolve."_

Something pulsed within him and he gasped, pain overtaking his senses. "Agh..!" He choked on his own saliva as he tried to shake off the excruciating torture.

_"Vow to me. I am thou, thou art I..."_

A scream tore out from his throat, sweat and tears blending together on his face as he clenched his jaw so tightly, he could feel his teeth grind from the pressure.

_"Thou who art willing to perform all sacrilegious acts for thine own justice!"_

His own justice...To right the wrongs no matter the consequences...

_"Call upon my name and release thy rage!"_

Something tore and he threw his head high into the air as he screamed, the whites of his eyes overtaking his shrunken pupils. "Agghhhh!!!"

_"Show the strength of thy will to ascertain all on thine own, though thou be chained to Hell itself!"_

Slowly calming down, he closed his eyes before opening them again, red replacing gray as he reached his resolve.

Unaware of the other teenager's change, Kamoshida grinned at the sight of his victim and pointed at him. "Execute him!"

"That's enough!" Akira snapped, his voice carrying over from his still held down position all the way to the other side of the cell where Kamoshida and his guard held the blond up against the wall.

Stiffening, Kamoshida slowly turned around with wide eyes. "What was that..?" He whispered, a sneer replacing his shocked face. "You desire to be killed that much? Fine." He jerked his head and the guard let go, Sakamoto coughing in relief as he was finally able to breathe.

One of the guards that trapped him bashed its shield against his face and Akira flinched, his glasses breaking off his face. The third guard walked up and raised its sword, preparing to strike down when the transfer student snapped his eyes opened and a pulse of power erupted from his presence, blowing the opposition back with a gust of wind.

Taken aback by the unexpected reaction, Akira blinked when he realized something was on his face and he reached up, his hands grasping something hard. He pulled, heart beginning to panic when he realized it was stuck to his face, and with clenched teeth, tore it off in a torrent of blood.

It hurt. It hurt a lot. But the pain brought something with it...Power.

Blood trickled down his face as he looked up and he grinned, eyes yellow with untapped strength. A ghastly blue fire consumed his body, changing him, revealing his true form. His Shujin Academy uniform had been traded for a sleeveless gray vest, black cargo pants, black pointed boots, and a black coat, the ends twisting around his form like a phantom's. His mask was back, as if it was a trigger between his persona and his real self.

Chains rattled around him as a phantom rose from the fires, a dark visor grinning at their enemies. A white cravat fluttered in the winds, brushing against his gray waistcoat and red jacket. His claw-like fingers flexed, arms raising high near his horns and his top hat. With a span of his black feathery wings, Arsene blew a gust of power, throwing the Shadows back to hit the walls and cell door.

Akira grinned viciously as he let go of the chains, releasing his doubts, his fears, his depression, to finally become what he had always been. A person who would be willing to do he thought was right. A person who would rebel against the injustices of the world.

A hero to the damned.

"I am the pillager of twilight- Arsene!" His Persona spoke to him. "I am the rebel's soul that resides within you. If you so desire, I shall consider granting you the power to break through this crisis."

Akira smirked, already knowing his answer. "Give me your power."

Arsene hummed. "Very well." He stretched out his wings. "Detest the enemies before you! Change that animosity into power...and unleash it!"

It was if it was instinct that he held a hand to his mask. Reaching within him, he summoned his darkness and directed it at his enemies. "Eiha!"

The Jack-O-Lanterns screamed as they were burned with the fires from hell, and they slowly moved back toward their master. Not giving them a chance to run, Akira flexed his hand, a dagger appearing in his grip, and he ran forward to slash at them. Pivoting his heel, he tore into their pumpkin heads before backflipping away, landing smoothly on the soles of his feet as they disappeared in a sea of black mist.

Sakamoto stared at him from the ground with wide eyes. "What...What the..."

Akira glanced at him before helping him get up. "You all right?"

He gaped once he stood up on his own two feet without assistance. "Uh...What the hell was that?!"

"No time to explain, let's go." He jerked his head toward the cell door.

* * *

 

"So..." Ryuji started slowly as they ate their gyudon inside Ore No Beko, one day later. "Can you explain now?"

Akira blinked, swallowing the beef and rice in his mouth. "Explain what?"

The ex-runner pointed the ends of his chopsticks at him. "The whole flipping thing, and the knife!" He whispered loudly, the jazzy music inside the restaurant disguising his words from any eavesdroppers. "You go into fights like you're dancing or somethin'!"

He shrugged, going back to his beef bowl. "So? You got a pipe to bludgeon Shadows with."

"Yeah, but..." He tried to formulate some sort of response. "I don't back flip and twist an' shit! You look like you've got experience doin' all that!" He leaned in closer and covered his mouth from any onlookers. "So you do carry a knife then?"

Akira sweatdropped. "No, I don't carry a knife on me." Anymore. "I just...learned." He pursed his lips and looked away. He didn't really want to touch upon Majima with him, even though they were now acquaintances.

Blinking at his reluctance, Ryuji pursed his lips and resumed eating his beef bowl. "Fine...I'll figure it out one day, but til then, we got shit to do with Kamoshida." He muttered darkly. "Now that I've got my Persona too, I can finally fight wit' ya inside that weird castle." Putting his food down, he held up a fist and grinned. "You with me?"

Staring at him for a moment, Akira slowly smiled and tapped his fist with his own. "Yeah...Let's do this."

Friends.

 

* * *

 

 

Akira sighed as he left Crossroads and walked down the bustling streets of Shinjuku, the sky as dark as his hair. It was three months into his probationary period, making it July. This place reminded him too much of Sotenbori, what with all the flashing lights and blatant prostitution, and he was half expecting a certain one eyed Oni to show up, but he knew he was just hoping in vain.

He didn't know where Majima was, or if he was even still alive. It was dangerous to be in the underbelly of Japan, as seen with their latest hunt with Kaneshiro. Thankfully he was now in prison, and his team was growing yet again.

He mused at that as he avoided all the brothel advertisers and strip clubs and turned the corner into a more deserted alley.

He had friends now. Ryuji, Ann, Yusuke, Makoto...even Morgana, though the feline had gone for a walk and said he'd meet back with him in Yongenjaya. Ann had been surprised to know they sort of knew each other already, citing that she didn't remember anyone else their age at that party which Akira forgave her for. It wasn't like he made an attempt to stand out.

That started their friendship where they could talk to each other about the woes of being kids of influential people. He had never needed to do much, just show up in a suit and be quiet, but since her parents were famous fashion designers, she had to dress up and make small talk with their sponsors. She hated it, but she did like the modeling part, and was now working toward it as her career. He supported her wholeheartedly, seeing how much it meant to her.

Yusuke had begun reaching out to him for his opinion on his art, and while Akira didn't really know much other than the big famous names, he did try and help. The artist was rather reticent, hiding behind an apathetic facade like he did, but when they were alone together, he felt it was safe to reveal his true thoughts and feelings regarding art. Akira was glad to be trusted with this, even though the artist made him do weird things like going on a boat ride in the middle of Inokashira park.

Makoto was their newest member and he still didn't really know her well, but knew that her superior intellect helped them plenty inside the Palace. Recently, he had taken her to an arcade due to her request for seeing a place for fun, and he could see she was pretty awkward about doing "normal" things teenagers do. Unlike him though, she was rather open to talking to anyone, using politeness as a front.

Ryuji...Ryuji was his _best friend_. He hadn't ever expected to make any friends here. He thought he was just going to drift along the days until his probation was over and he was moved back to his hometown. The ex-runner had trampled his way into his life on the first day of school and he would never regret meeting him. He was brash, and loud, and not too intelligent regarding planning, but his honesty, his strength, and his heart...he was someone who would put his life on the line for others, as seen inside Kamoshida's dungeon when they hadn't even known each other's names.

Akira had never been so happy to be surrounded.

He sighed, stopping near a convenience store and idly dusted off his white shirt jacket and black shirt, his blue jeans stretching as he idly tapped the front of his foot against the dirty pavement. If only he could see his first friend again...

"O-Ow..! Please forgive me, I meant no offence!"

"Ooooh?" A familiar voice drawled playfully. "Then why'd I catch you tryin' to make a run for it, hmmm?"

Speak of the devil..?

Akira slowly turned around to look down another alley. A bloody and beaten man was groveling on the ground in front of two obvious yakuza lackeys who flanked a man in a snake leather jacket. He was shirtless underneath, showing his taut abdomen, cut off by a pair of leather pants. A snake skinned shoe was lifted up and stomped down on the man who began to whimper, his face pressed against the gravel.

"Tch..." Majima sneered, running a leather gloved hand through his short undercut, snake emblem eyepatch fitting his long and angular face as it had years ago. "Didja think you could just leave without tellin' any of us?" He began to sniffle. "I'm so betraaaaaayed!" He whined loudly, banging his metal bat against the wall noisily, and the man underneath him flinched as if he was being hit.

Sighing forlornly, the one eyed Oni squatted down and lifted him up by his hair, enjoying the wince on his face. "Now, I want ya to go back to the office, and give us the money you owe the family. Be a good boy, OK?" He cooed. "You don't want to make me mad..."

"Y-Yes, Majima-sama..." He whimpered pathetically, blood from his broken nose mixing with the tears streaming down his face. "I'm sorry..."

"That's better." Majima beamed, the utterly happy expression pulling around his sharp cheekbones. "My boys will go wit ya." He jerked his head and his two minions lifted their victim up by his arms before forcibly dragging him away, most likely to his office.

Straightening up from his crouch, the yakuza rolled his neck and sighed, the smile wiped off his face in an instant once they were gone. The glee in his eyes faded to show a somber man, a man who wore a mask.

Akira stared from the shadows, purposely standing away from the light. He had changed so much...would he still remember him? His hand grazed against his pocket where he kept a small swiss knife. If the older man wouldn't remember his face, maybe he would remember the techniques he imparted on his once pupil. "Ojiisan."

Majima snapped his eye open and turned to glare at him, mask already back on. "Who ya callin' "Ojiisan"?" He pouted. "I'm not even fifty yet!"

Flicking the knife open from its sheath, Akira ran in front of him and slashed up in an arc, purposely missing by an inch. The older man instinctively moved back and narrowed his eye. "Hoo..." He breathed out, thin lips pulled into a smirk. "Askin' for a dance, huh? Well, I'll accept, boyo!" He swung his bat down at him, hitting the ground with a thwack instead of its intended target as the teenager back flipped away.

Majima stared for a moment before furrowing his brow. "Huh..." He muttered thoughtfully before taking another swing, ready to hit home run. Akira ducked underneath, the metal singing as it brushed past his messy curls, and twisting his body forward, held the blade up to his neck.

The older man stared at him in surprise before barking out a laugh. "You're good, kid! You from the Tojo? They don't teach that style anywhere else. Then again," He narrowed his eye. "Them backflips...You can't be..."

Akira swallowed nervously. "Majima-Ojiisan." He voiced again, his voice smooth and deep compared to three years ago when it cracked with every other sentence. "It's Akira. Do you...remember me?"

He grinned. "What? No way. Akira died years ago. Sagawa tol' me he hunted him down to take care of my "weaknesses."" He sighed dramatically. "Ole Sagawa didn't last long after that though..."

The phantom thief blinked. Sagawa? The man who had separated them three years ago. "No...I'm alive." He stepped back and put his knife away, taking out his ID instead. "It's me, Ojiisan."

Snatching the thin piece of plastic from his hands, Majima stared down at "Kurusu Akira," spelled out in raised kanji markings. "You...You're really Akira?" He asked quietly, a thin veil of hope overlapping his voice. "Sagawa didn't kill ya?"

Akira nodded, smiling slightly. "Hi Ojiisan...I'm sixteen now."

He chuckled quietly before it escalated into full blown laughter. The sound was akin to a coyote's, echoing down the alleys in frightening howls. After a few moments, he finally let it die with a sigh. "...Fuckin' Sagawa's still trickin' me from the grave." He muttered, throwing the ID back to the teenager. "Lookit ya...you're almost as tall as me now."

That was true. Akira now stood at a good height of 5'9", though he had yet to meet the older man's 6'1". His shoulders had broadened and he had actual muscle on his limbs now, imitating his lean but strong build. Smiling softly, the older man rolled his eye at his own sappiness and brought the teenager into a one armed hug. "Glad you're alive..."

Softening, Akira hugged him back. "Yeah...I'm glad you're still kicking around even though you're so old." He teased shyly. "Ojiisan."

Groaning loudly, Majima pushed him away. "I'm not that old!" He complained. "You're suppose ta fear me!"

He tilted his head. "Uh...I guess. Can I ask why you were acting so...weird earlier? I didn't think you would burst out laughing." At that high of a pitch anyway. It reminded him of a clown.

The yakuza shrugged, resting his bat against his shoulder. "It's part of my persona now. I promised ta live my life free of people who try ta fuck with me like Sagawa did. Yankin' my chain like some kinda dog..." Grinning, he pointed his thumb at himself. "You're lookin' at the head of the Majima family now."

Akira blinked in surprise. "You got back in? Congratulations...I think." Is it a good thing that he knew a yakuza family patriarch? "Can we...catch up? I wanna talk to you...I finally used your teachings."

Majima raised a brow. "S'that so?" Slinging an arm around the teenager's shoulders, he led him down the alley. "C'mon, Akira, let's go for some karaoke!"

* * *

 

"24 jikan CINDERELLAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!!" Majima sang at the top of his vocal cords, his voice echoing inside the small sound proof lounge. "HEY! HEY! HEY!"

Akira sweatdropped as the older man danced enthusiastically to the classic, and he clapped the tambourine to support the rhythm. When he meant catch up, he didn't think it would be like this, but it was kind of fun to see the one eyed Oni let loose and have fun without a care in the world. He even had a nice vibrato.

"Phew, that was fun..." Majima sighed contently before shoving the mic in his hands. "Your turn, Akira-chan!" He grinned childishly. "Do your best, kiddo!"

He stared at the mic with dread. "Do I really have to?"

"Hmmmmmmmmmmm...." The gangster hummed long and thoughtfully. "Yep! If you want me ta teach ya how to take out three guys in one second!"

Akira perked up. "If I sing, you'll teach me again?"

Majima smirked. "Now that I'm the head of my own family, ain't no one gonna stop me from doin' what I want, and I wanna see how far you can go with my skills. Now," He shoved the microphone in his face. "Sing!"

He nodded. "Deal."

 

* * *

 

 

"That'll be ¥45,200." Iwai chewed on his toothpick as he packed up all the airsoft guns and sharpened weapons into a nondescript bag. Akira nodded and took out the amount from his bulging wallet, making sure his hoodie hid his hair and face from any onlookers. He still had to hide from the authorities since he had "died," but since they were sending the calling card soon, he had to stock up on equipment.

The ex-yakuza stared at him for a moment, tilting his head down to take in all the bruises and bandages covering his face. "...You OK, kid?"

Akira smiled slightly. "Yeah, don't worry. Had a...run in with the cops." By run in, he meant an interrogation where he was beaten and drugged for however long it was before Sae busted him out.

Iwai pursed his lips before nodding. "Y'know you can come to me if you need anythin'. Kaoru's been askin' if you need another tutor again." He reached out to place a hand on the teenager's shoulders.

_Rough hands_

_Needles_

_Bruises_

_Ribs cracking_

The hand that reached for him turned into another's, an arm that was clothed in an agent's suit, and Akira instinctively reacted, his fingers leaving bruises as he stopped the hand from touching him. Iwai stared at him with barely veiled concern at his reaction, uncaring that his most valued customer had technically assaulted him, and Akira slowly sighed, letting go. "S-Sorry..."

The shopkeeper frowned. "Cops, huh..." He sighed. "If you need a place to hide, I gotcha too. Can't let the leader of the Phantom Thieves "commit suicide" again."

Akira gave him a small smile. "Thanks, but I'm already covered." His friends were tenacious in making sure he was well hidden, even though he had the habit of running around outside disguised with just a gray hoodie.

His phone rang and noticing the caller ID, picked up. "Majima-Ojiisan?" He noticed from the corner of his eye that Iwai paled at the name.

" _Yo, Akira-chaaaaaan!_ " The one eyed Oni drawled out. " _Just wanted ta make sure you're OK. Haven't seen ya in a while, almost a month!_ "

He smiled. "I'm fine, thanks. Uh hey..." He had never told his mentor that he was a phantom thief, let alone the leader. Majima had occasionally mentioned that his family dealt with people due to certain politicians, and he had an itch it was Shido Masayoshi. Their calling card would be ready tonight, but it could serve another purpose. "Make sure to watch the TV later, OK? It's really important."

" _Okaaaaay!_ "

He ended the call and put his phone away before turning back to the shopkeep. "Sorry about that. Can I also sell these?" He took out a bag's worth of junk they scoured from the Palace.

Iwai stared at him for a moment before slowly nodding, taking the duffel bag. "Was that...uh, I don't think I heard right. Didja answer to _Majima_?"

Akira blinked. "Oh right, you used to be yakuza. Do you know Majima Gorou?"

Iwai scoffed, though his face was still pale. "Know him? Kid, anyone who knows anything about the underbelly of Japan knows that name. I was just a newbie then, but when I bumped into him and his sworn brother...Shit," He gnawed on his toothpick stressfully. "He's a demon...They used ta call him the Mad Dog of Shimano, back when the head of his family was still alive. He tore through twenty guys without stopping, all while laughing like a maniac."

He felt his brows raise at the description. That definitely sounded like his mentor. A mad dog and a trickster, huh? They were an interesting pair...

 

* * *

 

 

Walking down the busy streets of Shibuya, the night sky stretching above him, Majima stopped when every electronic display in the square turned from the news channel into some bouncy ball. "Phantom Thieves, huh..?" He murmured, joining every pedestrian who stared up in surprise.

The screen moved from the bouncing grinning ball to a backlit shot of eight people dressed in elaborate outfits. They talked about how a Shido Masayoshi, a candidate for the next Prime Minister, was actually behind several crimes. " _We're gonna take his shitty heart, right leader?"_ One of the teenagers spoke arrogantly, and it was clear they were all teenagers due to their size and stature, though their postures showed more confidence than most adults.

The one in the middle walked toward the camera, finally entering the light just to show his gray eyes that were concealed with a black and white mask. _"That's right."_ A familiar voice rang out in the heart of Tokyo and Majima sucked in a breath. " _We're going to take this country._ "

His little trickster was the leader of the Phantom Thieves.

"Oh my god, we finally saw the Phantom Thieves!"

"Aren't they just kids though? Get real!"

"There's no way Shido-san is evil like they say, right?"

"That had to have been a prank. Look, the video's gone and everything."

"I still believe in Shido-san though..."

People all around him murmured and he bared his teeth at them, scaring them away from his vicinity. Grimacing, he stomped out of the crowds and called one of the lingering yakuza over from the corner who was disguised as a civilian. "Change of plans." He announced roughly. "Cancel all the hits."

"What?" They sputtered. "But boss-"

"Just do it!" He stared at him with one wide eye and they fled, obeying his orders. The Tojo clan had received millions of yen to track down the Phantom Thieves, but now knowing that Akira was one of them, and the leader at that, he knew he couldn't take those. Money was money, but a life was priceless, especially _his kid_. He had already lost him once because of the people manipulating him...

He clenched his fists. And it won't happen again.

Hailing a cab, he quickly made his way to Yongenjaya before paying the driver the fee. Getting out of the taxi, he headed down the small alleyways that made the back streets until he finally arrived at Cafe Leblanc. Entering the cafe, the loud noise immediately died down to a silence as the bell rang his arrival. Ten pairs of eyes snapped to his presence and only one of them lit up. "Ojiisan!" Akira greeted him with a hand from a booth. "Did you see?"

"Did I see...?" Majima whispered, a grin growing on his angular face. "Did I see?!" He threw his head back and cackled loudly, uncaring how some of them gasped when his jacket moved back to show his tattoos. "Did I see?! You looked so cool on the big screen, Akira-chaaaaan! You and yer lil friends!"

He smiled sheepishly at his loud crazy sounding mentor and at his scandalized team. "Guys, this is Majima. Ojiisan, this is Ryuji, Ann, Yusuke, Makoto, Futaba, Haru, and Sojiro." He gestured to each person, and they all hesitantly and warily stared at the clearly yakuza man. "And Morgana." He looked over at the feline.

Morgana wrinkled his nose, recognizing the familiar scent of cigarettes and the sharp tang of blood. "Is this the man you hang out with when I leave?"

Makoto moved her gaze to him. "How do you know this man?" She whispered tensely, her hands clenching and relaxing as if she was ready to bust ass at any moment.

Akira shrugged. "Met him when I was eight. He taught me how to fight with a knife."

Ryuji furrowed his brow before his eyes widened with realization. " _This_ is the guy who taught you?!" He turned back to the one eyed Oni who grinned viciously at him. "Dude!" He whispered loudly. "I didn't expect an actual gangster!"

Haru tilted her head, frowning thoughtfully at his presence. "Have I seen you before..?"

Futaba scuttled behind Sojiro, peeking out from time to time. "Do you have a hit count?"

Majima hummed, puckering his lips as he rubbed his goatee. "I dun think I've ever counted...Maybe when I started?" He muttered, furrowing his brow as he now tried to really remember. "Wait...maybe...huh...how many guys was that? Dammit, Saijima was the one who kept track, not me!" He complained petulantly.

Yusuke narrowed his eyes at the markings that adorned his chest, implying that it extended past his shoulders. "What might your mark be?"

He grinned. "Curious, eh?" Letting his snake leather jacket fall, he turned around to show his back, the frightening tattoo of a Japanese demon smiling back at them. "It's ma pride an' joy! Scares all dem regulars."

The artist held up his hands in a frame. "A Hannya...How terrifying..." He murmured. "You must truly be a formidable opponent."

Putting on his jacket again, Majima giggled, high pitched and whiny. "Smart of ya ta notice!"

Ann stared at him, weirded out by his erratic behavior. "Uh...is he OK?" She whispered to her leader. "Like...is he right in the head?"

Akira only smiled. "He's OK, don't worry." He stood up from the booth and approached his mentor. "Ojiisan, is there anyone who would end up as Shido's backup?"

The gangster stared at him before huffing. "Not anymore...I was just gonna let it slide, but knowin' that you're the Phantom Thieves means I can't just let them track ya down." Glancing over at the group of teenagers, he slung an arm around the teenager and pulled him out of the shop. "Sorry kids, borrowin' Akira-chan for a moment!"

Walking outside, they went on a little stroll until the streets emptied of any pedestrians. Stopping in the middle of the road, Majima took out a packet of cigarettes and sifted one out, lighting it and taking a slow drag. "You're such a troublesome kid." He muttered, still not turning around. "Every time I take ma eyes off ya, you go and almost get yerself killed."

Akira laughed quietly. It was true. "Sorry. I just...have to do the right thing."

Exhaling, he stared up at the stream of smoke that he emitted from his mouth. "The right thing, huh..." Majima muttered. "And what's the right thing ta ya?"

He pursed his lips. "The right thing...it means doing things that may be illegal or dangerous, but so long as we save those who can't save themselves...then it's all worth it. How many people are abused? Mistreated? Forgotten?" Akechi. He clenched his jaw. "Jailed for the wrong reasons while the real villain walks free? The right thing is if these things would never happen. No one deserves to suffer because others are selfish and distorted. I'll steal their Hearts." His eyes hardened. "I'll be their hero."

Majima closed his eye before flicking the finished cigarette to the side. "I see..." Just like his sworn brother. His brother who was stuck in prison because of the higher ups' manipulations, while he had been tortured and his eye gouged out. He could see a shadow of himself inside his protege, that even going through so many rough situations, had the tenacity to do what he thought was right. He could respect that.

He respected that deeply.

Turning around, he walked up to the teenager and reached behind his waistband. Taking it out, he held out his precious Demonfire dagger to him. "Here." He offered. "I don't know how ya do yer business, but..." He set his face with a determined frown. "This can help ya out if you're in trouble. My last gift ta ya."

Akira stared at it in awe, slowly reaching out to take it. It was a classic tanto, the handle and sheath a lacquered black with pink cherry blossoms decorating it. Sliding it out by an inch, he could tell without touching it that the blade was as sharp as metal can achieve, and he knew it could cut through anything like soft butter. He knew that a yakuza handing his prized weapon over was serious, and it only happened between mentor and pupil...or father and son. "Ojiisan..." His eyes moistened. "Thank you."

A hand landed on his head and he flinched before blinking curiously. Majima stared down at him with a frown before softly patting his head. "No problem, Akira."

"Show 'em hell."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's the end of this short little story! Thanks so much for reading! I've had a lot of fun trying to write out Majima's character, especially considering how he's multilayered.
> 
> Between last chapter and this chapter, Majima went through the events of Yakuza 0 and 1, triggering a transformation from his controlled self to the crazy hyena he's known for. He uses that as a facade, a persona if you will (wiggles eyebrows) to scare anyone from getting close to him again. Saijima, his sworn brother, is another character who was tricked into "killing" a bunch of people in a raid and was sentenced to maximum prison. Majima blamed himself for it. He has a twisted sense of loyalty and justice, beating any man who stood in his way but was never harmful to a defenseless woman or child (i'm pretty sure anyway).
> 
> A Hannya is the classic Oni from Japanese mythology, the one where their fangs poke upward and they have strong curved brow bones as well as sharp horns. It is a representation of a jealous woman driven mad and transformed into a horrible demon, which makes sense given his backstory.
> 
> Cram schools in Asia usually last from the end of public school time and end at the dead of night. (3PM-10PM-12AM usually) Students are expected to enroll in these if their grades are bad/rich parents wanting smarter kids. They don't always work, and the added stress of learning for 15 hours a day is incredibly stressful.


End file.
